Lady Heavenward's Final Decision
by Isa Lunari
Summary: Zexion-the boy who had his mouth sewn shut Demyx-said forcedmute's touch-empath/touch-telepath lover.Can Zexion and Demyx find freedom from Lord Vexen's oppressing rule? Zemyx SoRiKai AkuRoku Namiku MarVex Genres may change  In-Progress  NaNoWrimo 2011
1. Chapter 1

So. This is my NaNoWriMo 2011.

NaNoWriMo-National Novel Writing Moth-A goal of 50000 words in 30 days. Five. Hundred. THOUSAND.  
>Whoo boy. I'ma finish it this year. Landed 35000ish last year.<br>So. This is in progress, And will probably have bits changed to fix plotholes. After the fourth chapter, my outline kinda...died. In fire. But here, have the first few! You know you want to cheer me on!  
>Con. Crit is welcome, PLOT IDEAS ARE WELCOME!<p>

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><p>It had been raining. It had been raining for days. The cobblestone streets were thick with the muck washed in during the downpour- Not even horse and carriages could get through the city easily anymore.<p>

Yet Demyx shlucked his way through the muddy streets of Destiny Islands own Hollow Bastion anyways. He grimaced with every step, the muck stuck, cold and thick, to his black boots. The rain plastered his hair to his face and neck, and the oppressing wetness made even him uncomfortable.

"Seriously, could it get any worse out here?"

Pause.

"Don't answer that question," he muttered.

It was worth it he thought. This would...oh how he hoped this would be worth it. After so many false leads- or a complete lack of them..

All he had wanted was to find his Zexion again. He had worked his way through all the probably areas the other boy could have been taken after his...heresy had been..in a way...permanently proclaimed to anyone that would look at him.

This though, this city, the center of all academic and _religious_ practices was the least likely place for him to be. Other than Heavenward, but that was a separate isle still in the Destiny chain. That and all ports on the other isle, separate of Lord Vexen's Rule, were disallowing immigrates. Lady Naminé had put a ban on allowing people in, granted there_ were_ ways to get in. Demyx...knew of a few. Hollow Bastion though...it was the seat of Lord Vexen, the one who ordered Zexion's...

There was a small chance that after he was brought here, he had found a place to work and stay, but...

Hopefully, his Zexion was here, in small little tavern on the far, port edge, of the city. Hopefully, Zexion was actually living and working at The Freeshooter's Barrel.

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><p>Word Count: 304<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

"Wakey Wakey shortstack!" There was a rapid pounding on the door to his bedroom. Zexion rolled off of his lumpy mattress, dragging his pile of blankets to the floor with him.

He landed with a thud and a vague flailing motion from under the blanket heap on top of him. Zexion struggled from under the mound of blankets, forcefully freeing himself after a few moments had passed. He stared at them balefully for a second, then started folding each of them and placing them on the bed. He pushed the bed back against the wall- it had shifted when he had fallen out of it.

He pulled his nightshirt over his head- a frayed gray sweater with a few brown and tan patches sewn in to lessen the thread bareness of it -tossing it into a small basket at the foot of his bed. He dug through the small dresser before picking a a gray tunic and pants for the day. The sleeves were much to long and had to be rolled up several times-It had been Xigbar's once- and the hem hung just below his thighs, but it was very thick and would keep him from turning into and icy Zexi-sicle -it was the busy season after all.

Almost everyone still in the city visited taverns daily during the rainy season. Nobles went to their out-of-town manors, and the rest stayed in the large cities, hoping for a dry day to get some sort of work done. When it was wet- and it usually was -they braved it to visit friends and family in the few open places left in the city. The taverns. With everyone entering and leaving the Barrel, it was bound to be a bit cold, what with the door almost constantly opening and closing, and even with walking around and serving everyone the wind would be a bit chilly. He wanted to avoid it, thus the warm clothing.

Besides, Xigbar wouldn't approve of his sole server freezing himself enough to not be able to work.

Speaking of Xigbar...it was almost time for-

"Alright, we're gonna open in ten minutes, get your runty little ass out here brat!"

Zexion shook his head, and crossed the small room, the curtains were shut-even if the weren't the wind and rain outside would probably let in the same ambient light-so he couldn't quite see where the handle was. He thumped his arm on the wall and cringed. He fumbled for a second and finally grasped the handle and whipped the door open, startling Xigbar- honestly, this was daily routine, was it really that surprising?- and scuffed his feet on his way down to the main floor of the tavern.

Xigbar grumbled something about creepy brats and their death glares.

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><p>Word Count: 766<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

It was going to be a long day. Xigbar was already pouring more drinks than the all the days of last week combined, Xaldin was baking another three loaves of bread, and had had to run to the butcher for another slab of beef.

-time lapse: 2 hours-

Zexion stared blankly out the window during the sudden lull in patron activity- two people had passed out in their chairs, and most of the others were leaving, had left, or were quietly chatting. The rain painted everything outside a dull, bleak monochrome.

He still longed to step outside. Greet the sweet rain with smiles and laughs and joy, the same way he had with Demyx when the two of them would puddle stomp as children in the rain. He wanted to greet the rain with something other than the firm line hips lops were locked in. The rain..reminded him of Demyx in a way. Everyone seemed so dull around his brightness, the sheer amount of joy he emanated. He fingered the thick stitches that Lord Vexen had personally stitched into his lips.

"Hey, shortstack? You okay kid?" Xigbar shook his head, answering the question the other could not. "C'mon, out the back, let's go outside a sec 'kay?"

Zexion blionked back tears, following the older man through the kitchen, and out the back door.

Xigbar gave him a quick hug. "You've got ten minutes 'kay? I can handle the Barrel for a bit." He went back inside.

Zexion stepped from under the overhang, careful to avoid a slippery fall into the steep decline that ended at the drain. The drainage section ran just inside the stone walls, all the way around the city. It was good for water draining during the rains, and as a defense should the city ever be attacked. The drop from the edge of the wall if one went straight down was about the height of a three story house.

Zexion stared at the sky for a few seconds before closing his eyes. He raised his arms and spun in a slow circle.

Rain mingled with tears on his face. It soaked his clothes and plastered his hair to his face.

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><p>Word Count: 1133<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Zexion stepped back into the tavern. His clothing clung tightly to his skin, and he dripped on the hay covered floors.

Xaldin turned away from the kitchen hearth to hand the boy a warm towel. "Hey Zexion, once you're reasonably dry again, Xigbar said you can have dinner in your room and then get some sleep okay?"

He took the towel and rubbed it across his slate-blue hair a few times before wrapping it around his shoulders. The visible gray-blue eye widened-the other one probably did too, but who could tell-at the man's words. He shook his head. He had to help out, it was his way of paying room and board...

The dread-locked man sighs, "I figured. C'mon then, let's get your some soup okay? Then you can see if you feel up to working."

Zexion shrugged, there was no point trying to argue. Xaldin does as Xaldin does.

He sat at one of the small corner tables within the warm kitchen. The wall's time-piece showed it only to be noon, but the rain made it look so much later out.

Xaldin ladled a thick broth into a small covered bowl, setting the lid back on it and placed in on a metal grate above the fire to warm up. He went back to chopping meats, breads, and cheeses for the Barrel's patron's sandwiches.

The steady sound of the knife on the counter lulled Zexion into a half asleep state. He was surprised Xigbar would let him take this long of a break. Granted, it wasn't that often that Zexion thought of his old friend long enough to start crying. He would usually squelch any thought down deep enough to be forgotten until he tried to sleep.

The last time he had openly cried in front of the bar owner had been when he'd first arrived...

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><p>Word Count: 1442<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

-flashback-

_The wind was harsh, and bitterly cold. A boy of about 15 stood in front of a small tavern near the port end of the Hollow Bastion. The rain soaked through his thin layers of clothing. The hood of cloak blew back in a fierce gust of wind as he raised an arm to push the handle, and the door, open. _

_His hair was soaked almost instantly, and the water that now streamed down his face mixed with the blood on his face. The blood from the stitches sewing his mouth shut. There were eleven of the little __**X**__s formed by where the evenly spaced stitches were. His lips were forever to be locked in that position. Cutting the string and removing it would still leave the scars, and Lord Vexen had decreed that any with the removal-scars were to be killed on sight. _

_With his mouth sewn shut- such a clear indication of his acts of heresy- who would accept him? He had enough coin to buy a few nights and food at a small tavern such as this. Maybe, hopefully, they wouldn't kick him out on sight._

_The latch clicked and he stepped inside. _

_The barkeeper looked up at his newest customer. The place was crowded, all the tables were taken, though a few of the bar seats were open. A game of cards was going on by the stairs to what presumably led to the rentable rooms. It was relatively quiet though, _

_He turned from shutting the door, squinting in the abrupt change in lighting- it wasn't that late out, though the downpour outside made it seem darker than it was supposed to be-and awaited the man's response to his branding. _

"_Well, don't just stand there kid, grab a seat here why don'tcha?" the man said, gesturing to the stools by the bar- and near the fire. He turned toward an open door, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through and asked, "Xaldin, you got any leftover soup? And a straw?"_

_As the boy stepped over to the bar a few people turned to look at him, shrugged and resumed their conversations. He sat on an empty bar stool, as close to the fire as he could be without moving the stool itself. He used an unsoiled part of his cloak to wipe some of the blood from his chin._

_A cup was set in front of him, the straw sticking out blatantly from the rim, there was a thick almost-soup in it. He'd expected stares, and curses, not...not this. Not help. He looked up, the man's eye-the left had an eye patch firmly placed over it-was...understanding? _

"_You got a place to stay, kid?" He shook his head, answering his own question, "Betcha don't got a job a some kind either."_

_The boy shook his head, attempting to fit the straw between his lips and between the stitches. It chafed. It was worth it though, the soup warmed him up from the inside out, and helped his growling stomach._

"_How about this- You seem like a smart enough kid, granted getting your mouth sewn shut probably wasn't...the best move, but hey- How about you help me out?" _

_The boy looked up, uncovered eye blinking owlishly._

"_I give you a room and food, and you work here. I can't keep walking around getting orders and stuff- I'm getting old." He smiled, pointing up to his hair- tied back though it was- the two gray streaks were starkly visible against the rest of the black._

_The boy nodded, straw still stuck firmly in his lips. His cup jiggled. _

"_So. I'm guessing you can spell?" A nod. "What's your name then shortstack?"_

_The boy shrugged, before using a finger to trace each letter separately, backwards, in the air. _

"_Z-E-X-I-O-N. Zexion, eh? Cute name shortstack. Mine's Xigbar. The oaf in the kitchen is Xaldin. Worship his feet, he's the best cook in the world, promise. So, what'd you do to end up with those nifty bits? Kill a priest? Set fire to a church? Burn some libraries?"_

_Zexion paused, staring at the man- Xigbar, he reminded himself -he couldn't tell him what he'd done...it was forever to remain a secret. Well, sort of. A secret is only a secret if only one person knows. Demyx knew. Of course Demyx knew. He was involved...but Zexion had...condemned himself to save his friend. Lover. His Demyx. _

_He blinked a few times, then the tears fell. _

_Xigbar stuttered for a few seconds before, "Shit, sorry kid."_

_And the rest was history. He was given a room, food, a job, and...a little bit of hope. If he survived- albeit branded a heretic for his words and actions-then surely Demyx would have survived as well?_

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><p>Word Count: 2242<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Zexion finished drying himself with the towel enough that he wouldn't drip over the floor, and put his dish in the wash pot. He stepped out of the kitchen, grabbing a clean tray tray from behind the bar, and went to get empty cups and find out who wanted refills. Xigbar sighed to himself as the boy stepped back on the floor, "Persistent little brat aren'tcha?"

The door opened and Zexion glanced over. He nodded at the woman that walked through- she was a regular -and took the empty mugs and plates on his tray behind the counter. He handed a few to Xigbar motioning to the taps to refill from, and stepped into the kitchen again. He tapped the counter three times, paused and then twice. Two beef sandwiches. Xaldin was never taught reading when was younger, and there wasn't much of a need for him to learn, their little system worked well enough.

He stepped back into the main room with the acquired food, and gathered the filled mugs on his tray. Zexion walked around, placing mugs and plates on the respective tables. He collected pay from the people that decided to leave. The door opened again, Zexion turned, glancing at it. And stared.

He dropped his tray. Xigbar stops his refilling, "What the hell?"

Demyx pulls the door shut behind himself. "Gods above, Zexion? You- I've- And-" Demyx practically flew across the room. "Gods, how did you survive? I...I was so scared. I've been searching everywhere." He tilted Zexion's face up, both of them were crying. "Consent?"

Zexion nodded, closing his eyes. Demyx took of the black leather gloves he was wearing, tucking them into a pocket, and placed his splayed fingers on either side of the others face- Thums at the temples, pinkies on the jawbone.

-Memory Read-

Running. Rain. Demyx.

Save him. FUCK.

Chased. Too close.

Stop running. Turn.

Save him. Fight.

Lord Vexen. Laughter.

Cell, no. Apothecary.

Tied down. Needle.

"Heretic. Traitor. Silenced"

Stitches. Blood. Pain.

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><p>Word Count: 2589<p> 


End file.
